In the Kitchen
by buddhistbabe
Summary: Chef Bouche meets a young woman in the castle, while she tries to give the Beast a gift. BATB 2017
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at a Beauty and the Beast (2017) story. This was all typed and edited in one sitting so please forgive any mistakes. As always I have no rights to the characters.

* * *

Chef Bouche did not see many people outside the kitchen staff. He rarely saw the master, as most of his instructions came passed down through Lumiere. He had not seen the young woman in the castle yet either, even thought Mrs. Potts reported back to the chef immediately. The two of them were thick as thieves, especially since he made her hot water, and she provided all outside kitchen news. His kitchen was the staff's resting place, their sanctuary, his home.

Mrs. Potts had told him that she was beautiful, smart and most importantly, fearless. Whatever woman lived here and could possible break the spell would need to be fearless, he told himself. The Master was not an easy man, and he had become even less agreeable overtime. The few vestiges of hope the prince had for love, had disappeared years ago. A

However, this young woman was different, or so he heard. She made a rope to climb out of the castle out of dress material. Then brought back the master after being attacked by wolves, when, any other person would leave him behind. She declined dinner demands, and she seemed to go toe-to-toe with him in everything, from conversations to fights. Yes, Chef Bouche already liked this woman.

Being bolted to a wall greatly decreased his chances of ever meeting her, because why would she ever come into the kitchen, a servants only area?

Yet, she was different, and cared little for the "status quo" so he shouldn't have been surprised when one morning, not to long after lunch, the door was softly pushed opened, and a beautiful round face appeared in the opening.

"Hello?" Called the young woman to the seemingly empty kitchen.

"Mademoiselle." The chef started. "Please please come in. How can I help you? Is everything alright? Nothing was wrong with your lunch I hope?" He concern was apparent in his voice, which the young woman noticed right away. She came into the kitchen and the Chef got his first look at the girl who had become famous among the staff.

She wore a simple blue dress, the Chef noted that his serving staff wore a fancier style then she did. However the blue dress fit her complex and bright eyes well. Her skirt was hitched, with the bottom of her bloomers showing. It was almost like she was planning on hopping on a horse and riding off at any moment. Her hair was pulled back and her eyes were curious as they took in the sights around her as she came closer to the Chef.

"Oh, of course not, lunch was amazing" She stated quickly.

"Everything here has been delicious. The best food I have ever had, honestly." She smiled before adding. "I must be address the chef, am I not?"

"Ah Oui, mademoiselle. I am Chef Bouche, Head Chef of this kitchen. It is an honor to make your acquaintance." Chef said with a flourish, bowing as much as he could with his bulking size.

"Please, call me Belle, and the honor is all mine Chef." She said with a smile. Yes, the Chef definitely liked this young woman.

"Are you just on a tour of the castles? or is there something I can help you with?" Chef asked as Belle took in their surroundings. Her eyes scanned over every nook and cranny. It was almost like she was taking inventory, and learning the lay of the land.

"I'm not sure." She said after taking a good look around. "Do you mind if I sit?" she indicated one of the white chairs around the kitchen table.

"Oh, please do." replied the chef, a side of him wondered how long ago a human had actually sat there.

She took the chair closest to him, which when he was a human, was the seat he always choose, since it was closest to the stove...now closest to him. A wave of sadness swept over him, he might never leave this kitchen again. He shook away the thoughts and returned his attention to Belle.

"So, what I can do for you?" he asked trying to cast away the lingering sadness

"So, recently, I was given the library of the castle..." her thoughts trailed off into silence.

"Yes, Belle, I had heard. It has been years since I have seen the library personally, but I remember it was really quite impressive. I used to borrow the occasional book myself." The chef sighed "I always loved The Three Musketeers as a boy."

Belle smiled at his recollection. "That is an excellent story. Now I know your are one from adventure stories" She said with a small laugh "Well, your Master has been kind enough to help me start sorting through the books. It appears that the shelves have gone unsorted for decades."

"Ahh yes mademoiselle Belle. The library was the Master's grandfather's pride and joy. The crown jewel of his castle. However, his grandfather passed when he was a baby, and his father left it alone. For the Master's father did not care for his own father. He thought he was too generous with the villagers, so I hear. The master's father used to say that he was amazed the commoners didn't steal the castle right out from under the old man."

Chef sighed. "However, the Master's mother often visited there, she did what she could to add to the collection. When she passed the young Master would order any new book he could, to keep the collection going. However keeping everything dusted and orderly is a monumental tasks, especially when the library's caretaker has been turned into a table."

The chef noticed a deep frown set across his young companions face.

"What is wrong?" He asked cautiously.

"How long has everything been like this?" She looked up at him with sadness in her eyes and gestured to the castle around them.

"I cannot tell you, sadly." The Chef sighed, letting a small puff of black smoke out as he exhaled. "At first, I thought I would try to keep track of the time by watching the sun raise and fall by it's light shining on the opposite wall. As you can see, I am not facing a window. However, it is always cloudy here, always winter. There was been no sunshine for me to watch."

Belle turned in her seat to at the wall opposite of the Chef. It was...blank, expect for the door. Her heart sank a bit. She had no idea what to say.

"I tried to keep track of the days, by counting how often I slept. However, I am not human anymore so I don't need sleep. I don't sit down, or lay down. I don't even hand hands anymore," he stated waving around his metal arms. "and hands are a chefs most important tool." The sadness started to overwhelm him, he mentally shook himself. He needed to regain his composure.

"So, as I was saying, what can I assist you with?"

Belle turned in her chair back to face the chef, her eyes watering slightly. He could see, in her eyes, that she truly felt for him. Her empathy was admirable, he thought.

"I wanted to take the Beast for assisting me with the organizing the books," she said trying to hid the sadness in her voice. "And I guess thank him for the library. These are such a kind gestures."

Belle smiled softly at the Chef, and for a moment, he thought he could see a glimmer of affection for the Master, in her eyes. She smiled bashfully and looked away, almost as if she knew he could see it.

"I know he doesn't know this," continued Belle, "but in the village, there were only a dozen or so books available to me. I had read them all, at least a dozen times. I had started to memorize them. They were the only thing that got me out of my village and away from..." she never finished her sentence, however the Chef knew what she had meant. They got her away from the everyday, the problems and loneliness.

"So this really is a big gift." Belle started again. "Even if he doesn't know it. When I was growing up, if I wanted to thank my father for something, I'd often bake him something special. A cake, or a batch of his favorite cookies, especially if we had extra butter." She smiled fondly at her memories.

The chef nodded and smiled too. He knew he was going to like Belle when she first entered the castle, but she liked to cook. She appreciated food, and she appreciated that food could make people feel loved and that made him respect her more.

Most of the women the Master had in the castle before the spell had no idea where their food came from, let alone how to cook or bake. That was just not a part of royal lessons. How to order food and how to plan the courses of a meal, yes. But how to take the raw materials and turn them into a masterpiece? No, not one knew the effort that went into it.

Typically the chef wouldn't let anyone else cook in his kitchen, it was his place, but with Belle, he felt generous. He knew she would respect his kitchen, and respect him.

"Well, Belle, please feel free to use the kitchen to make something for the Master if you would like. I would be happy to assist you in anyway." He attempted large bulking semi bow again.

Belle smiled deeply at him, as if she understood what a grand gesture it was.

"Thank you Chef, especially since this is your kingdom." He laughed and she continued "However, I don't know what I should make him. I have no idea what he likes, and the things he does like, I probably have no ability to make."

Chef Bouche reflected back of all the desserts and food he had made the Master and the young woman had a point, everything was very rich, or extremely ornate. Only in the last several years had the master started to give up his demand for those foods settling for plainer fare. Even then, by commoner standards, his "plainer fare" was probably more rich and time intensive than Belle was used to. The chef pondered for a few moments.

"Well," he started interrupting the silence. "What do you normally make your father?"

"Molasses cookies, served with milk." She smiled.

"Well, then you should make that. I could give you instructions on how to make something the Master used to eat before the curse, but that would be from me, not from you. I can safely say, he has never had Molasses cookies before. The Master only prefers the food he does, because it was what his father ordered when he was a child. So why not make him something new?"

The young woman's face lit up. "You are right my friend. I should make him something I know how to make. You are a genius."

If stoves could blush, Chef Bouche would have. "Thank you Belle, you are too kind." He said proudly. "Now, what do you need?"

He spent then quarter of an hour directing Belle around the kitchen in search of the ingredient she needed. They chatted as he directed her to the mixing bowls and spoons.

Mrs. Potts came in while Belle was measuring and pouring the ingredients together, and the sight before her, almost cracked her spout from shock. The Chef never shared his cook space with anyone else. The fact that Chef Bouche was giving Belle pointers on the easiest way to shift flour was short of a miracle.

She came over and joined the pair, while Chef put on a kettle for her. Now the chef and Belle had moved on to discussing their favorites foods.

The Chef was surprised to learned that Belle's father had done all the cooking when she was small girl and she had learn to make basic fare from him. As she got older she would learn from the other women in the village. It was one of the women who lived in the village who showed Belle how to make molasses cookies, so she could surprise her father on his birthday. And despite all the delicious food she had had since being in the castle, to this day her favorite meal was her father's rabbit stew with dumplings.

Mrs. Potts laughed, and served tea, as she told Belle and Chef Bouche about her first attempt at making cookies as a young girl. She has burned them all to a crisp while she went out to milk the cow for milk.

Belle learned that Chef Bouche had received all his training in France and had joined the castle staff when the Master was only about 11.

In what felt like no time the molasses cookies were out of the oven and set on a cooling rack. They smelled perfect. The Chef thought they were probably the best cookies he had seem in ages come out of the kitchen, he stated this fact outloud and Belle blushed.

"Oh that a real compliment dearie." Stated Mrs. Potts with a laugh. "The only other cookies that come out of this kitchen are his."

Mrs. Potts and Belle laughed as prepared the tea tray with cookies and milk and started to head out of the kitchen.

In the doorway, Belle stopped and turned back to Chef Bouche.

"Would you mind if I came to visit you again? Next time, if you would like, I can bring the Three Musketeers with me, and read it to you while to cook."

The Chef knew he was an oven, and therefore the warmth he felt inside of him was a fire. However for a moment, he felt like a man again, his heart warmed by a kind gesture from a beautiful woman. It took him a moment to compose himself and respond.

"mademoiselle Belle, if this kitchen is my kingdom, as you stated, then you are welcome in my castle at anytime. Day or night, I am always here."

She bowed as she left the room.

Chef Bouche knew in his soul, that he would used his hands again. One day soon, he would go outside and see the sunrise, because if anyone could break the curse, it would be Belle.


	2. Chapter 2

Chef Bouche had just covered the rabbit stew. He wiped his metals hands on the rag hanging from the oven door in front of his face. It needed to simmer for roughly two hours before the dumpling could go in. He sighed out a small puff of black smoke. It had been an eventful 24 hours in the castle. Just yesterday he had the honor of meeting the lovely Belle. He had thoroughly enjoyed their time together. She was a young woman who appreciated food. More importantly she appreciated the work that went into making food, and it had been a long time since he had cooked for someone like that. Not since the Master's mother, she was woman of substance, and after her passing, little substance was seen around the castle.

The Master hosted lavish balls with increasingly decadent menus, and rarely a word of praise was said. Just the menu for the next ball. He had known that Mrs. Potts and Lumiere had tried to reason with the Prince at times over the menus. Especially when he ordered a dozen roasted geese, when it wasn't goose hunting season. There had been times where the Prince changed his mind at lunch about what would be served for dinner, even thought the Chef had been working on dinner for hours already. There had been days where the chef had threatened to walk out of the castle and never return but his friends always convinced him to stay. How different his life would have been, if he had just left. He sighed black smoke again.

Since becoming a beast, the Master had become easier to cook for. However, he would have given anything to have his hands back, even if that meant the demanding menus again.

Yet this rabbit stew was a treat to make and while it was consider "simple" fare there was nothing simple about it. Of course, this would be the best rabbit stew the mademoiselle had ever tasted. He used a bottle of very fine wine and some excellent brandy, fresh butter, all of the best ingredients he could get his metal hands on. He knew it wouldn't taste anything like her father's stew, but he didn't want to replicate it. This was his way of saying thank you. This morning, not to long after breakfast had been served, Belle appeared in the kitchen again. This time she was dragging behind her a large full-sized floor mirror. It was a large gilt framed monster of a floor mirror.

She explained that she discovered it in an unused bedroom, and that she proceeded to position the mirror so that the Chef could see outside the nearest window through its reflection. Chef Bouche had no tear ducts, but if he did, he would have cried. He could see the sky for the first time in years. This stew was the least he could do to repay her.

It was cloudy, and a bit overcast. He could see the trees in the distance moving in the breeze. Several times during the day he had found himself getting distracted and gazing into the mirror.

Mrs. Potts didn't comment on the mirror when she came into the kitchen next but just smiled and asked the Chef for some hot water. She had just smiled and went out into the castle again.

Now, with the stew simmering, he could hear foot steps outside the kitchen door. He had hoped it would be Belle, but it sounded like large feet pacing in front of the foor. Then he heard Mrs. Potts voice, he couldn't make out the words, but soon enough the kitchen door opened and the Chef had his answer.

It was the Master.

Chef Bouche stood up as straight as a stove could. The Master in the kitchen was rare. The last time he was in here, he was yelling at his staff for giving Belle a room. Would he be next to be yelled at about the cookies? Or could it be the mirror?

"Your grace." Chef Bouche state. "How may I assist you?"

The first thing the chef noticed was the Mrs. Potts had not come in with the Master, even though he had known he heard her voice in the hallway. Followed by the fact that the Master didn't appear anger, if anything, the Chef would say he looked, almost embarrassed.

The Master looked around the kitchen and his eyes fell on the mirror, and the Chef could have sworn he almost saw a smile on his face too. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"Chef Bouche," The Master started "I just wanted to thank you for allowing Belle to use your kitchen yesterday. She...really seemed to enjoy herself."

"How were the cookies?" The Chef asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"They were...amazing." The Master replied, looking away from the Chef. "I don't think I had ever been given a gift like that and I don't even know why."

"Well, your Grace. I can safely say you had never been given a gift like that before, because all of your food has been chosen by Mrs. Potts and prepared by me. While, I am sure you understand when I say, it is my profession to prepare food, I do not do it out of affection or thanks."

"Yes, I prepare my food with care, and with the intention to be enjoyed. However, Belle made those cookies because she was grateful and she wanted to give you something from her own hands. There is a consideration and care that comes from a gift like that."

"But what was she grateful for?" The Master questioned the chef. "That she is trapped here like the rest of us? That she is stuck? I don't understand!"

Chef Bouche coughed lightly. "If you would allow me to, your Grace, I believe I can shed some light on this subject."

"You can?"

"Yes, you see, the mademoiselle told me why she wanted to bake for you."

"Go on."

"In the village the mademoiselle only had access to about a dozen books, maybe a baker's dozen. That is all. She said she had read them all multiple times. She had even started memorizing them. So then suddenly you give her a library full of books. Which contains more books then she even thought existed." The chef added offhandedly.

The Master turned away from the chef and spoke more to himself then his companion. "So when I told her there were better books to read, and she asked 'like what?' it was because she honestly did not know what else there was."

"And there are many books for her now." The chef joined back in. "And she is thankful you have been taking so much time to help her sort through those books. Just think, for her, every book is as new adventure, and you gave that to her."

The Master looked almost shocked.

"Well, how can I thank her in return? She has been showing me how to appreciate the people and things around me and..." The Master trailed off.

Chef Bouche interrupted the silence.

"Well, your Grace, I have an idea."

"Yes?" The chef has never seen the Master look at him with so much hope before. He almost looked like a young boy he once knew.

"How about you finish the last part of dinner. I am cooking the mademoiselle's favorite meal. Rabbit stew and dumplings. The stew is complete but the dumplings go in last. I think it would be a good start at showing your appreciation to her."

The Prince was hesitant. "Are they difficult to make? Because I have never cooked before."

"Master, I am well aware you have never cooked before." The stove reminded him. "They are not difficult to prepare, but they are essential to this meal. This would be a good place to start. Take some time and think about it. If you want to make them, come back here in an hour. The stew needs to simmer a bit longer. Come dressed for dinner, as these go about 15 minutes before they are served, but do not wear your jacket into the kitchen. We will be using flour, and it can get everywhere."

The Master paused and nodded before he stalked out of the kitchen.

* * *

To the Chef's surprise, in exactly one hour the Master arrived in his shirtsleeves, looking determined. The Master had draped his blue jacket over the back of the white chair Belle had occupied the day before. Rinsed his massivs paws in the pump sink and was ready.

Chef Bouche talked him master through measuring the ingredients, mixing in the flour and melting the butter and stirring the mixture. Just like the chef predicted, flour was everywhere and his master was getting flustered.

"Do not worry your Grace, everyone makes a mess with flour. Even the mademoiselle spilled some."

"Did she?" He asked gratefully.

"Oui. She did. It takes a lot of practice to not make mistakes or messes in the kitchen. I have been cooking for decades and I still make messes."

"Why did you become a chef?" The Master asked him. Chef Bouche paused. In his entire career, the Master had never asked him a question about himself. Not once, not even how he was doing, and now... What was this young woman doing to him?

"Well" he started slowly. "I love how food makes people feel. A good meal can make you feel empowered, or safe. Food can make people feel special and people seem to appreciate the work that goes into making food."

His master was silent as he stirred, listening to the chef.

"Your mother hired me, and the meals she picked out and the suppers she ordered were always done with such care. It was an honor to cook for her. She always appreicated everything. It make me want to work harder for her. Like when you were a boy, you did not like onions, they used to upset your stomach. So your mother would order a special small dish of whatever the rest of the family was having, just without onions for you. After dinner she would come and thank me personally for every meal. She was a delight to cook for."

The Master looked up from his bowl towards the Chef, shame on his face.

"And I haven't shown you that respect. Not in the slightest. If anything, I always demanded more." The disappointment was palpable in his voice.

"Yes, your Grace. But that is the past. You are here know, making something for someone you care about. I think you more than understand." The chef said softy. "However, we need to get those dumplings in this stew or dinner is going to be late." He changed the topic quickly.

"But Chef, this just looks like mush."

"Yes, for now. Okay know carefully drop a spoonful of the dough into the stew. Be careful not to splash anything on yourself."

* * *

Dinner had been served, and Chef Bouche was boiling a pot of water for Mrs. Potts and watching the night sky in his mirror. Mrs. Potts was preparing the after dinner tea.

"So, Mrs. Potts, I heard you in the hallway, but you didn't come in with the Prince. Why was that?"

"Oh. I think the Master needed to talked to you personally. Without me." She said off-handedly. "I think he was hoping if I came in with him, I would do the talking."

"Well, you and Lumiere are his mouthpiece to me." He stated.

"Yes, when it comes to matters of the household, not matters of the heart. I think it did him a lot of good to come in here and do something with his hands. I also think it did him good to remember that you exist."

The chef hummed for a moment, while pouring the hot water into the teapot, before saying "We talked about his mother."

"You did?" Mrs. Potts was so surprised, that she actually spilled some water.

"Yes. It wasn't much but it was a bit... This young woman, she has changed him."

"She has indeed and hopefully, he can earn her love."

"I think he has earned her affection." replied the Chef. "Now, it is just a matter of time. I do hope the Master told her that he had made the dumplings. He said that he wasn't going to because they turned out lumpy."

"Oh, I told her that the Master had been in the kitchen helping with dinner. So I am sure she asked him about it, and if not, I will tell her myself." Mrs. Potts said smuggly as she rolled out of the Kitchen and into the dining room.

The Chef turned his attention back towards the mirror. Yes, one day he would stand outside and see the sky properly. He knew it deep in the fires of his iron belly. He was going to be a man again soon.


End file.
